Cabin Pressure - Los Angeles: Thunderstorms!
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: Martin and Douglas are fast asleep in some dingy hotel in California when a thunderstorm hits. As it turns out, Martin's got a little phobia that no one knows about... Starring: A freaked out Martin and a surprisingly comforting (and cuddly!) Douglas!


**Cabin Pressure - Los Angeles:  
Thunderstorms  
**

When Martin woke up in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness and generally placated and warm, he wasn't exactly sure _what_ had woken him up. But when he rolled over to cuddle further down into the thin blankets of the hotel that they were staying at, he heard it. The faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

His eyes flew open in time to see to lightning light the room. He bolted up, shoving the blankets away from his shoulders. In the matter of a few seconds, he'd gone from warm and comfortable to sweltering and nervous. His palms were starting to sweat.

Okay, so, he was slightly afraid of thunderstorms. Nothing he really had to worry about in Fitton, but in California? On the _one_ night they were here...

Martin blew out a breath and laid back down, curling up again. He pulled the blankets closer and tried to ignore the pounding of rain against the windows and the howling of the wind that wasn't at all muffled by the walls of the hotel.

"Quite a doozy."

Martin jumped at the voice in the room, his eyes darting to the opposite bed. "Douglas, I didn't know you were awake!" he hissed, although he was glad for a reason to turn on the lamp.

"I'm sure everyone- oh. Martin, turn that _off_. I am trying to go back to sleep," Douglas complained, shifting the blanket over his eyes.

Martin didn't move, sitting up again. "We're not going to get back to sleep when it's storming like this," he said, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Douglas sighed, removing the blanket to squint at him. "_You_ may not, Martin, but for the sake of _someone_ having enough sleep time between flights, turn it off."

"I don't want to," Martin retorted. "Turn over if you don't want to see it."

Douglas gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine."

Right when Douglas was shuffling over, another crash of thunder filled the air. Martin flinched out of fear and habit, _praying_ that Douglas hadn't-

"Martin?"

Martin huffed and wrapped his arms around his knees. He ignored Douglas's gaze and tried to stop himself from trembling.

"Are you afraid of storms?" Douglas asked, the unmistakable sound of humour in his voice. "Are you _actually_ afraid of a little thunder?"

Martin tightened his grip on his knees. "No. I thought you were going to sleep."

Douglas scoffed, reaching over to turn on his lamp. "I'm certainly not going to go to sleep now. You're _really_ afraid of thunderstorms?"

"No," Martin said vehemently.

"You flinched," Douglas pointed out. "Unless you've acquired a case of fleas or have injured yourself by sitting in a flight deck for nine hours, it's probably because of the storm."

As Douglas was speaking, another tremendous clap of thunder shook the room. Martin tensed up and closed his eyes tightly; the storm was getting closer.

"Oh, this is priceless," Douglas said. "Absolutely-"

The next clap of thunder sent Martin flying off the bed. Back in his childhood, he would have ran to his parent's bedroom and curled up in his mum's arms. Now, there was nowhere to run - and he certainly wasn't going to run to Douglas - so he went to the bathroom instead, slamming the door behind him.

What an idiot. He was acting like a child. It was stupid. He was stupid... but then, it was a phobia and... it was uncontrollable. He sank back against the door and slid to the ground, burying his face in his knees. In and out. He had to keep his breathing steady. He was in control. Always in control.

He flinched where there were two knocks at the door. "Martin, come out."

Martin hugged his knees tighter. "No. Go back to sleep."

Douglas sighed; Martin could hear it through the door. "Why are you afraid of a little thunder and lightning, Martin? You're a pilot of a bucket of tin that's liable to fall out of the sky each time we fly. I would think that would be your main concern."

Martin shook his head, before remembering Douglas couldn't see him. "No, I..." He winced when lightning lit up the small room, pressing further back against the door. "I don't know," he said pathetically.

"You're afraid of it but you don't know why," Douglas said. "If I were you, I'd be thinking about lightning striking the building. Actually," he said thoughtfully, "water attracts electricity. The bathroom is one of the places that I would think would have the most water..."

Douglas didn't even finish speaking before Martin felt his skin starting to crawl. He knew that. Of course he did. Why had he run to the bathroom? He scrabbled to his feet and flung the door open to reveal a smug-looking Douglas.

Martin raised his chin slightly - which had very little effect when he was shaking so badly - and strode past him. Tried to, at least, because Douglas grabbed his wrist. "Let go," Martin muttered, pulling at his grip. He wanted nothing more than to curl up back in bed and bury himself under the blankets.

"Martin," Douglas said sternly.

"Really, Douglas, I'm not in the moo-" Martin started to snap, but another clap of thunder cut off his train of thought. Before he could make a conscious decision of what he should do or what he was _doing_, he'd flinched automatically towards Douglas to hide his face.

"Oh, do calm down, Martin. Nothing's going to happen," Douglas said, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. "Just take a few breaths and get yourself sorted. Neither of us are going to get back to sleep at this rate."

Martin followed the advice - good advice- only realising, after almost a full minute, that _Douglas_ was _hugging him_ to his chest like a _child_. He pushed away, feeling his face turn more red by the minutes. "What..."

Douglas looked down at him, eyebrows raised. "What what?"

Martin stared at him for a moment before the storm reminded them why he was so worked up in the first place. Despite himself, he took a half step closer to Douglas again. He was... well, comforting, really, in the strangest of ways. Physical contact... Douglas was there and that's all Martin needed: someone to be there.

But why _Douglas_? He'd tear the mickey out of him for _months_ because of this...

"Come on, Captain, it's not really that scary. Look, if you go out into the hallway, you won't see the lightning."

Fair point, Martin thought, but-

"I'll even grace you with my presence if it'll calm you down," Douglas added. "I'd say we hit the café, but given the state of the coffee I had from it earlier... I think it would upset your stomach more than settle your nerves," he muttered.

"I'll skip the coffee," Martin muttered, already making headway for the door whilst resisting the urge to press his hands over his ears. He didn't check to see if Douglas was following but instead sat down against the wall right outside of their room, hugging his knees again.

He would admit that he was actually a little surprised when Douglas followed him out. Even more surprised when something landed on his head and body, smothering his vision; he quickly realised that it was a blanket.

"Thanks," he muttered, wrapping the blankets around his shoulders.

"Mhmm," Douglas replied, sitting down next to him. "Try to relax."

Martin glanced sideways at Douglas, but the elder man was settling back against the wall, eyes closed. Even as he watched, he yawned. Martin huffed and looked away.

"What?" Douglas asked.

"I didn't say anything," Martin retorted, flinching closer to Douglas's warmth when thunder crashed.

"Oh, you were thinking it," Douglas said.

"What are you, a mind-reader now?" Martin muttered, before pausing. "What a horrifying thought."

Douglas laughed shortly before reaching over and wrapping an arm around Martin's shoulders. Martin squeaked as he was pulled closer to Douglas, but he couldn't deny that it felt better to have the physical stability next to him. Even if it _was_ Douglas...

"I used to be afraid of swimming, you know."

Martin looked up so fast that he nearly twisted his neck. "What?"

"Swimming," Douglas said without looking down at him. "Well, water in general, really. I was always afraid I'd drown."

Martin frowned, the urge to guffaw because Douglas Richardson was afraid of something nearly non-existent. "What happened?"

Douglas shrugged. "I became a pilot, not a skipper," he said simply.

Martin laughed slightly despite the situation, settling himself more comfortably against Douglas's side. "Co-pilot," he reminded. "_I'm_ the pilot."

"_I_ used to be one, too," Douglas retorted. "Lest you forget."

"Lest you forget you got fired for pinching things," Martin muttered, but under his breath. He wasn't in the mood for a row and besides, it wasn't really a row at all. They'd had this conversation so many times. "Why are you telling me this, anyway? The water thing?" He narrowed his eyes. "Somehow... you're going to use this to come back on me. _I'm_ going to end up looking like the stupid one."

Douglas looked down at him, the innocent look on his face contrasting with the twinkling in his eyes. "Whatever gives you that idea, Martin?"

Martin grimaced. "Because I _always_ get the short end of the stick." He paused. "Besides, who would believe that Douglas Richardson is afraid of _water_? Everyone'll believe I'm afraid of thunderstorms, but no one would believe _that_ about _you_ if I'm telling them."

Douglas smirked. "Quite so. That's why I'm telling it to _you_."

Martin rolled his eyes. "Bully," he said jokingly.

The comforting warmth to his side was proof that Douglas was, in fact, _not_ a bully. It was just a rare moment... Like a rare sighting of a wild animal or something. A caring Douglas.

... Although Martin did wonder what he was going to have to owe him. He stuck by his motto: even when he won, he lost.

But, right now, warm and semi-comfortable on the floor of a hotel hallway that muffled the thunder a bit more than his room and the windowless walls that blocked the lightning completely, Martin was utterly and truly grateful that Douglas was at his side.

* * *

**IT'S SO DIFFICULT TO WRITE THESE BOYS IN A SERIOUS SITUATION. Argh. I don't know how John managed when he wrote the bird strike. Just listening to that scene gave me chills because they weren't kidding around as usual. A****nyway, I've had this idea in my head a few days because I've been on a CP kick and... hopefully it worked well enough to get the point across because I love Douglas and Martin platonically. *o* And thunderstorms are always fun. (Not really for the characters, though.)**

**I do not own _Cabin Pressure_. Leave your thoughts in the box! Thanks!**


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